My school bus conductor would scream out “Moti, bhaag!” expecting me to run faster from my house till the school bus already waiting for me outside the gate of our building. I don’t remember much about how I felt about it, frankly speaking.
Nothing has changed. . .
I still cry the same tears for a past unforgotten.
I still laugh with the same people who were always there.
But a fear of losing all of this tumbles down a shiver down the back now.
The winning poetic entries and the participant entries based on the prompt A SUN MELTS ON MY PALM
Say NO to emotional abuse
Oh! I’m not angry. It’s called dry sarcasm. I’m just Chandler!